


Together, On My Own

by Macx



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chris is held as a living shield in front of a smuggler, Ezra has to make the shot that could save his bonded or kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together, On My Own

 

God, no. Can’t do it. Impossible. The odds alone….  
Ezra Standish stared at the scene before him, sweat beading on his brow, and much to his dismay his hands were shaking. Hands that had cracked highly sensitive locks. Hands that were faster than the eye when it came to dealing from the bottom of the deck. Hands which had never failed him in a burglar job. Now they were slick with sweat, trembling, and completely unreliable.  
Not a sure bet, he whispered to himself in his mind. Too many things could go wrong. Everything could go wrong!  
Below him, a classical stand-off had frozen seven people into place. Three smugglers against four Agents. All three were armed and pointing their guns at the Agents in question. The Agents had their respective weapons pointed at their quarry. All except one.  
Impossible. I can’t… impossible!  
<Ezra, listen to me>  
The voice was soft. He had heard that voice a million times before. He closed his eyes, wishing he could draw some strength from the mere mind presence of his partner, but right now the voice in his head did nothing to soothe his nerves. Quite the opposite. It was pushing him closer to the edge.  
<You can do it, Ezra>  
<No> he moaned. <Chris, I can’t. Impossible. I can’t….>  
<Ezra> his partner insisted. <Take the shot>  
<No!>  
Ezra opened his eyes once more, staring at the blond head. One of the smugglers, a bear of a man, had his arm around Chris, his hand clutching at the vulnerable throat. Larabee’s fingers were clawed into the muscular arm and Ezra knew he was having difficulty breathing. He knew each detail, each thought running through his soul partner’s mind.  
<Ezra, calm down>  
From a man who was about to suffocate or worse. From a man who was in the hands of the enemy.  
<Calm down?> he cried hysterically. <Chris… I’m not a sharpshooter! I can’t…>  
<You can do it> came the calm reply.  
He was choked off as the smuggler squeezed Chris’s throat to emphasize his demands.  
The thief felt a small moan escape his lips and his own throat constricted in shared discomfort. Buck, Vin and Nathan tensed, their guns never wavering. Whatever was going on down there, no clear sound reached to where Ezra lay in hiding. He saw everything quite clearly through the rifle’s scope, though.  
<Do it> Chris insisted, his mind-voice weaker than before.  
The smugglers started to retreat, dragging Chris along. The team leader kept clawing at the hand around his throat, gasping for air. A knife was perilously close to his ribs.  
Ezra gulped. It was impossible. He wasn’t such a good shot when it came to long range. Short range he was dead center, always bull’s eye.  
<What if…. Chris, I could kill you> he sent shakily.  
<Ezra, I trust you. You can do it. Please>  
His stomach clenched into a tight fist and he bit his lower lip, almost drawing blood. Chris trusted him. He had done so on numerous occasions, but never in a situation like this. Buck was a long range shooter, as was Vin. They would easily be able to take the man out.  
<It’s you up there, Ez> Chris could be heard, his presence briefly increasing.  
Suddenly his captor changed tactics, placing a large knife against the vulnerable throat, grabbing the Agent with his other arm to secure him against his barrel chest. He was barking orders at the other three, who were unable to do anything. One wrong move and that knife would slice into Chris’s skin.  
Something touched Ezra through the Bond. It was a gentle touch, almost physical, a hand on his back. It was warm, reassuring. It was Chris. Ezra trembled under the touch which had to take a lot of concentration out of his partner.  
<Ezra> the voice whispered softly. <You can do it. I trust you>  
Ezra drew a shaky breath. He settled the rifle in his grasp and took aim. The smuggler was moving erratically, keeping Chris between himself and the Agents. It would be a difficult shot, but if he didn’t take it, Chris would be dead the moment those three miscreants were aboard their ship. His trigger finger shook as he touched the warm metal.  
The shot was almost inaudible, but in Ezra’s ears the soft clicking noise of the trigger echoed in his mind as loudly as a cannon shot. Detached from the world he watched the man behind Chris stiffen and then slump, pulling the slender Agent with him to the ground. A burning pain lanced across his right cheek. More shots followed, but Standish had no idea who shot who. The end result was two dead smugglers and one severely wounded one. Buck, Vin and Nathan were swarming around the site, but Ezra felt frozen to the spot.  
<Chris?> he tried, getting nothing but ‘static’. <Chris!>  
Panic seeped into his thinking. He couldn’t…. had he….? But he could feel Chris’s presence. His partner, his lover, was still there. The rifle clattered form his numb hands and he staggered toward the stairs.  
<Chris!>  
Ezra had no recollection of how he managed to get down to ground level without falling. He stopped at the bottom, hysteria intermixing with panic.  
<Ezra?>  
The voice barely reached his conscious mind, but something registered. His eyes fell on the figure sitting on the ground, Nathan leaning over him. There was blood on Chris’s face and Ezra’s shock deepened.  
<I’m fine> Larabee told him, feeling the raging emotions of his soul partner batter against his mind. <Ezra?>  
<I… I shot you> Ezra managed, his world sliding to pieces.  
Nathan had become aware of the silent communication since Chris was looking past him, his eyes holding an intense expression. Someone touched Ezra’s arm and he turned his head, blankly gazing at Buck.  
“Wow, Ezra, what a shot!” Wilmington exulted, slapping him on the shoulder.  
The thief just nodded silently, eyes never leaving the ugly gash on Chris’s right cheek.  
“I’m fine,” Chris said out loud. “Ezra, it’s over.” <I’m okay> he insisted.  
<I shot you….>  
<You shot the bad guy, not me. It was close, but you are one heck of a good shot under pressure> Chris sent amusement with the last statement.  
Nathan straightened and looked at the thief. “Ezra? You okay?”  
“I’m fine, Dr. Jackson,” Ezra replied automatically.  
“Sure.” The medic grimaced, but he clearly didn’t believe it.  
“The clean-up’s on the way,” Buck announced. “We should get out of here, boys.”  
<Ezra…..> Chris tried again, but Standish just turned away.  
There was too much on his mind at the moment and the sight of all that blood on Larabee’s face made him aware of how close he had come to sending the bullet into Chris’s head.  
“It’s over,” Larabee’s voice was suddenly next to him. “You did good, Ez.”  
“I shot you,” Ezra repeated as if in a trance.  
Chris caught both his shoulders and forced him to look at him. Ezra winced once more.  
“I’m not dead. I’m alive, thanks to you. Ezra, you did what you had to do and this is just a scratch!” <Thanks>  
He inhaled shakily, blinking, trying to chase the emotions away. Too much was cascading down on him right now and the mere thought that he could have hit Chris….  
<You didn’t, okay? Ezra, get over it. This won’t even leave a scar>  
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay…..”

* * *

The mere declaration that he was fine had Buck on his toes and he had watched Ezra Standish all through the debriefing with eagle eyes. His friend appeared collected, professional, answering questions clearly and without hesitation, but the usual glint in his green eyes was missing. He was on automatic and everyone who knew him could see it. Since Chris was still detained by Travis, Buck had decided to move in and do some damage control. What had happened had been extraordinary on Ezra’s part and had required nerves of steel – nerves Buck was sure hadn’t been there to begin with. Ezra had been forced to shoot at something so close to his soul partner that he easily could have hit Chris. The bullet had only left a bloody stripe in Chris’s face, but in Ezra’s eyes, it had been a lot more.  
Now he found his friend sitting in the silent office, way past work hours, staring at his computer screen. His dark and empty computer screen.  
“Ezra?”  
“Hm?”  
Bad. Really bad.  
“You okay?”  
“Sure. Fine.”  
More than bad. Small catastrophe about to launch an avalanche.  
“You know you shot Chris, right?”  
Furious green eyes threw daggers at him. “Of course I am! Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Wilmington!”  
A lot could be said about Buck Wilmington. He was boisterous, loud, shot off without thinking, but he knew pain when he saw it and he knew when he had to draw that pain out of a man. Ezra was good at underhanded sneak attacks, something he had managed to broadside Buck with in the past. The gentle prodding tactic wouldn’t work here.  
“Ah. Thought as much,” he commented.  
“What are you talking about?” Ezra wanted to know, confusion leaking into the fury.  
He shot his younger friend a bright smile. “Got you out of your self-induced guilt-trip. You’re talking again.”  
Ezra huffed, sinking back into his chair and staring at the computer again.  
“Ezra, if you hadn’t done what you did, both of you would have died.”  
Another angry glare. “Thank you for stating the obvious!”  
Silence reigned for a full five seconds after the outburst, then Ezra’s shoulder slumped.  
“I know that only too well, Buck,” he whispered. “But I shot him.”  
“You call that shooting someone?” Buck laughed.  
Ezra glared again. He had hit the smuggler right between the eyes. Buck was proud of the thief, but he wasn’t about to laud him for it. It would be the wrong move. Right now, he had to draw him out, challenge him.  
“Ez, what’s your problem? It was either that or watch Chris die. I’d prefer a bullet hole in my arm or a scratch like Chris’s to a cut throat any day! You did the right thing, Ezra. You shot the bastard right between the eyes, taking him out. If you had shot him anywhere else, he would have killed Chris. You know about reflexes, right?  
A nod.  
Buck didn’t really want to hurt Ezra like he was about to, but he had to make him understand. “He would have moved his knife arm and cut your partner’s throat.”  
That got him a wince.  
“You would have seen Chris die.”  
The smaller man started to pale.  
“Right in front of your eyes,” Buck coldly drove the next knife into the wounds. “Bleeding to death, suffocating on his own blood.”  
Ezra’s skin had turned a sickly whitish gray and he had squeezed his eyes shut.  
“And you wouldn’t just have seen it, Ezra, you would have felt it. Every single second of it,” Buck used his final blow, voice harsh, counting not only on Ezra’s recollection of the event but also his imagination of what could have been.  
The thief made a choking noise.  
“Not even Nathan would have been able to help with that. You did what was necessary and the consequences….? Chris has a little scratch and you are both okay.”  
Ezra’s breathing had quickened and it looked like he was about to be sick. Buck forcefully turned the chair around, making Standish face him.  
“Ezra, you saved his life. That scratch is something to remind you how lucky you are! Chris is alive, nothing else counts! Do you understand?”  
Ezra nodded weakly, liquid green eyes holding a dazed expression.  
“I want to hear it, Ezra. Do you understand?”  
“I understand,” was the shaky reply, which was barely above a whisper. “You have a very… visual way of putting things.”  
Buck smiled brightly. “So they say. Works best for me.”  
Ezra chuckled weakly. He scrubbed a hand over his face, inhaling deeply.  
“Go home,” Buck advised. “Sleep. And you might wanna talk to Chris.”  
“I will.”  
Ezra rose and Buck followed suit, watching him sharply, just in case.

* * *

Chris blinked, feeling a bit disoriented, wondering why he had woken. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him it was four in the morning. No time to be up already, especially after the events of yesterday. Then he found the reason: the bed was empty. Ezra was gone.  
Using the Bond, he quickly scanned for his partner, finding a wall separating him and his lover. Not good. Chris swung his legs out of the bed and switched on dimmed lights, then walked over to the door that led into the living room. It was here he found Ezra, sitting curled up in the corner of the couch, eyes fixed on the mute TV. The electronic light flickered over his pale, drawn features, and it was easy for Chris to read the nightmare in the exhausted eyes.  
<Ezra>  
Despite the walls, his lover still heard him because he flinched slightly, his gaze flickering briefly over to the blond. Chris sighed softly and sat down next to him.  
“Nightmare?” he inquired.  
A shrug.  
Okay, nightmare, Chris translated. Bad one.  
“Ez…”  
"I’m fine." The whispered answer was evasive, noncommittal.  
“Let me in,” he requested softly.  
"Chris.... I'm . . . I just . . . " He trailed off.  
Larabee sighed. "Want talk about it?"  
Ezra gave a strangled little laugh. "No. Not really."  
He shivered once, hugging his knees more tightly, but his already cracking shields were no match against his lover’s determination. Silence fell between them for several moments, the clock ticking its seconds away in the quiet, shadowed stillness of the early morning hours. The silence wore on him until the thief squeezed his eyes shut, and Chris inhaled sharply at the images.  
<I’m alive> he whispered fiercely through the turmoil of nightmarish visions, mostly him with a cut throat, suffocating on his own blood. He felt Ezra’s helplessness at the events, his cry of pain, his guilt and wish to end it all. <I’m alive, Ezra!>  
<I know> came the broken-voiced reply. <It’s…. just…> His breath was coming in panicked gasps now, eyes wide, seeing other scenes in his mind’s eye.  
Chris reached out over the Bond and touched his lover, anchoring his living presence deeply within him. Ezra’s eyes opened and he breathed deeply, trying to control his emotions.  
<Buck painted a very vivid picture> the thief finally sent.  
<Buck?>  
<I… he talked to me>  
Chris almost laughed. Buck? Then again, he knew his friend had quite a way of shocking people out of their stupor.  
<Buck’s patented mallet method> he quipped.  
<Something like it>  
Chris physically reached out and rested a hand on the still tense forearm. <Looks like it partially worked>  
Silence.  
“Ezra, I’m alive,” he said out loud, slightly startling his partner. “Thanks to you. That scratch will heal.”  
“I know.”  
“Ezra, your dreams.. the nightmares.. they are a what if. Never happened, won’t happen. If you insist on staying in this what if, you are going to miss life.”  
Ezra swallowed hard. “I know,” he repeated.  
Chris opened up to his partner, sending all the comfort and warmth he could find, adding images of the past together, the future they had planned. Ezra fought for composure and failed again. He simply clung to the Bond, one hand clutching Chris’s, and Larabee held on. He didn’t want to shatter the last of Ezra’s control by hugging him. He knew it would be wrong. His lover had to fight and he would be his rock, something to hold onto.

* * *

The next morning started too soon. Chris felt like he hadn’t slept at all and he cursed his alarm clock. Shuffling into the shower, he tried to rouse himself, but the cascading water didn’t make him feel much better. Ezra lay curled up in bed, where he had returned to just an hour ago. They had talked a lot. Chris had spent the time with his shields down, reassuring his partner that he was there, that he wasn’t dead, and that he had done just fine. When Ezra had finally fallen asleep, it had been nearly time for Chris to get up. He would let Standish sleep. The man needed it.  
Walking into the office, heading straight for the coffee machine, Chris wondered how much caffeine was needed to jolt him into wakefulness. Damn, he felt dead.  
“Man, Chris, you look like shit.”  
“Thank you, Agent Dunne,” he growled as the youngest of the team gave him a critical look.  
“Rough night?”  
“What night?” he sighed.  
“Oh.”  
Chris looked over the rim of his cup and suppressed a grin as he saw several expressions chase each other on JD’s face.  
“Morning, pard!” Buck’s jovial voice shattered the silence and Chris sighed. “Wow, where was the party and why wasn’t I invited?”  
“No party, Buck.”  
Wilmington grinned slyly. “Ah….”  
“And nothing along those lines either.”  
JD had left the break room, carrying two more mugs of coffee, and Buck turned to inspect the contents of the fridge.  
“So? What’s up?” he asked.  
Chris inhaled the aroma of his coffee. “Ezra kept me awake. He had nightmares.”  
A worried expression crossed Buck’s features. “Bad?”  
“Yeah. He kept seeing me. Head blown off. Throat cut. Bleeding to death.” Chris’s eyes met Buck’s head-on. “I wonder where he had the image from.”  
Wilmington had the good grace to look sheepish. “Uh, I talked to him yesterday.”  
“So Ezra said.”  
“I thought I had done good….”  
“Yes, you did very well, but maybe a bit too well…” Chris sighed. “Ezra has a very vivid imagination. And with the stress, it was a very fatal combination.”  
Buck sighed deeply and sat down opposite Chris, placing a bottle of caffeinated soda on the table. “Didn’t think he’d take it that way. I was so relieved that he hit that creep! That was a precision shot, Chris, if I saw one! I know what Ezra did out there. If it had been Vin, I don’t know if I had been able to do it.”  
Chris nodded. “I know. I think he knows, too, but he’s a bit shook up over it.”  
"Think I should talk to him?"  
Larabee shrugged. "As long as you leave the splatter and gore images firmly where they belong – locked away."  
"Hey, no problem. I never wanted him to have nightmares, just jolt him out of his guilt trip."  
Chris smiled. "I appreciate the help, Buck, I truly do."  
It showed him just how much a friend Buck was, even if his methods were rather crude. But hey, they had worked.  
"Now… I'll see what to tackle of the reports," the team leader sighed and snatched a fresh mug of coffee.  
Buck chuckled and patted his back. "You do that. Have fun."  
Chris grimaced, growling something, then he left.

* * *

Ezra let his hands roam over the familiar and well-known body beside him, tracing muscle structures and skin patterns. Warmth met his inquiring touch and he smiled as one nipple peaked with interest at his explorations. Chris caught his hand, smoldering hazel eyes catching green ones. Ezra grinned and blew some air on the hard nub, making Chris gasp in surprise.  
"Ezra!"  
"Hm?"  
He pushed himself up, blanketing his lover, feeling a definite, renewed interest further down south. The evening had been filled with slow, intense love-making, and while the naps had restored some of his energy, Standish knew he wasn't up for another full run any time soon. But some fooling around was always nice.  
"You're insatiable."  
<With you? Always. You're delicious>  
Lips met in a sensuous touch, tongues flicking against each other as mouths were explore. Chris let go of Ezra's wrist and threaded his fingers into the hair.  
Two weeks had passed since the incident and Ezra was back to normal. No further talk had been lost about the near-miss, though the way the thief had latched onto his lover, loved him, needed him, touched him, Chris knew it had severely shaken Ezra. By now, it was all just a bad memory, one to be stored with all the other near-misses.  
The problem hadn't really been the near-miss, the possible loss of Chris and the death of the Bond. It had been the fact that Ezra had been the one holding the fate of four Agents in his hands, alone, unable to ask for help or support. The only support had been Chris's voice through the Bond, and he had been the one in mortal danger. It had left Ezra close to breaking, a mess, afraid. Actually, terrified.  
<Love you> he whispered, one hand leaving the soft hair and wrapping and arm around the compact, slender form.  
All his emotions were plain open for his lover to see and feel. He was proud of him, so endlessly proud. Not because of the one incident, but because of what he was, who he had become, the long road he had traveled. He was proud to be Ezra's soul mate, the chosen lover and partner, the man he trusted to intimately.  
Ezra hummed softly, a gentle sound reverberating through the Bond. <The feeling is mutual> was the whispered reply.  
He snuggled into the embrace, both physical and through the Bond, feeling Chris pull the blanket over them more firmly. He didn't want to let go now; not tonight.  
<Won't ever let you go> Chris murmured and nuzzled one ear. <Mine>  
Ezra sighed in pleasure and relaxed. Not alone. <Never leave>  
Never willingly, he added silently. Never.  
Chris sighed, content, and Ezra lost himself in the sensation, enveloped in the warmth and security of the Bond, of Chris Larabee.


End file.
